


Not So Bad

by mushembra



Series: Always Room for One More [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Desperation, Don't judge a book by it's cover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally unstable, Gavin starts the fic thinking of Nines as an it, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Omorashi, Pissing in Public, Platonic Gavin and Nines, Sequel, Then sees maybe he's a real boy after all, introductions, near wetting, new partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 17:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: Its been a year since Gavin's father was arrested. The trial was over, the bastard was going to be in prison until he drew his last breath. And the detective's life couldn't be any better. A loving and supportive boyfriend, a department that respected him and valued him as a detective, and hell, even some growing and dealing with his lifetime of abuse with a little help from medication and therapy. Life finally seemed to be going his way.Until Fowler surprises him with a new partner, a stone faced machine of an android that Gavin is convinced is just here to replace him. There's no way he could work with this terminator, could he? Unless there was a lot more to RK900 than the android tried to let on in the initial meeting...





	Not So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know its been forever. FOR. EVER. But here I am with a sequel I've wanted to do for so long.  
This isn't how I orginally decided to do the sequel. It was supposed to focus on Gavin and Elijah as brothers and all that, buuuut...there isn't a whole lot of interest in poor Mr. Kamski. He's going to eventually feature in this sequel but I got a different interesting idea on showing how much Gavin has grown.  
I'm not entirely sure what direction I'm going in, but I have a pretty good idea...so I sure hope you enjoy this little starter.

Gavin’s gotta say, its been a long last few months. A very long last few months. Fuck, what was he saying; a few months? More like a fucking year. A year of therapy and psych appointments. A year of medication and tweaking that medication when he’s too manic because of it or can’t function and remains trapped in his bed, then finally finding something that works (at least 90% of the time. He’d settle for that). Then there was the trial against his father. He didn’t want to testify. Didn’t want to see his face again. Hell, seeing him in that courtroom damn near tail-spinned him into a regression episode (which thankfully were growing fewer and fewer). If it weren’t for Connor and Hank sitting up front, giving him their silent encouragement, he would have just caved right there on the stand. It was all circumstantial and it looked like he’d get away with it. That is, until the avalanche of medical records came to light, all thanks to Connor’s dedicated digging. With all the years that bastard got, he wasn’t going to be walking the streets alive ever again. No chance of getting out early for good behavior or getting some sort of probation deal. The relief was almost more than he could contain, though he managed to keep it to himself, at least until he got home that night and could break down away from the public eye.

It was pretty fucking weird, everything being more or less normal. Having a father figure that cared about him. Having a boyfriend who loved him. The department actually having his back and supporting him. What in the fuck, how did he even deserve this? He didn’t, he really fucking didn’t for all the bullshit he’s put everyone through. But every time he gets that little seed of self-hate in his head, that little inkling of doubt, they had the audacity to prove him wrong or whatever. How insane was that? These fucking clowns, and he loved each and every one of them. Sitting at his desk, sipping at his stale, gritty ass coffee, Gavin honestly didn’t think shit could get more perfect. If they could just stay like this forever—

“Reed! Need you in my office!”

Gavin was snapped out of his blissful little revelry with a jolt, glancing at Fowler, who was standing at the top of the stairs that ascended to his office. He didn’t look pissed or anything, but there was that 'no bullshit' serious look on his face that told Gavin he may or may not like the news. Lovely. He didn’t miss the look of question on Connor’s face, the way his head cocked to the side like Sumo taught him that damn mannerism. All he could do is shrug his shoulders, getting to his feet before making the march up to the glass enclosed office. Where everyone could see them (seriously, the DPD had no tact).

“Easy, easy, you’re not in trouble or anything.”

Gavin snorted, plopping himself down into one of the seats in front of Fowler’s desk. The Captain had an easy air about him, which at least alleviated some of the tension. He’s always been good about that since certain ‘_events_’. Even when he’s giving the detective a stern lecture, he doesn’t yell, doesn’t put up that imposing posture he often does with some of the others of the team. Gavin doesn’t need that, and it doesn’t work on him. It only serves to get the detective calling question to his worth, and the spiral could begin all over again, undoing everything he's worked this whole year for. He would like to think he’s above that now, he’s made a lot of progress, but everyone being considerate of his rather unstable nature was nice and made him feel a little less broken.

“So uh, what’s this all about? Don't tell me someone else has bitched about me and Connor making googly eyes at each other at work or something.”

“I’m not going to dance around this thing, I’m just going to get right to the point; you’re getting a permanent partner.”

Gavin choked, lurching forward in the chair, sitting right there on the edge, literally and mentally. Oh holy _fuck no_.

“I’m sorry but did you just fuckin’ say—Tina’s my--!”

“No, Gavin, Tina is a beat cop. She’s tailed with you on assignments for safety reasons, nothing else. As has Chris and everyone else who didn't mind volunteering to help you out. But you need a partner, someone to help you solve your cases and kind of take the work load burden off of you, seeing as a beat cop isn’t necessarily authorized to do detective work.”

A partner. Gavin has been avoiding this like the plague for fucking—well, since he’s become a detective. He had one once, in the beginning. But that didn’t pan out well. Wound up breaking the fucker’s nose, getting into one too many fights. Guy transferred or whatever, not that he had cared at the time. Fowler had thought it easier to just leave him unassigned after that, just get him some back-up going to crime scenes and let him do his thing. But times were changing, so apparently this was going to change, too. But there was one little problem that might at least buy him some time.

“Last I checked, there wasn’t another detective at the department, not one without a partner already, anyways. So, what, gonna throw me with some new transfer or some—”

And that’s when it walked in, and Gavin was left reeling. The android was imposingly tall, broad, very stoic in its demeanor, but all of that was eclipsed by a much bigger and startling fact; the fucking android had the same damn face as Connor. Well, mostly. His face seemed a bit more strong, jaw more sculpted, and he had the most piercing blue eyes he’s ever seen. Cold as ice. Hell, damn thing looked like it wasn’t even deviant. Hence his referring to it as it in the first place. Fucking thing looked like a killing machine, a real damn computer on legs. He's been good about not referring to _any_ android as it, but this thing? Fuck Gavin wasn't sure what the hell this thing was. More like some weapon in the shape of a human than an android.

“This is RK900, the last prototype created by CyberLife before going under. Seeing as they’re obligated to release all of their androids, and this model was made for the same thing Connor was made for, someone-- and I haven’t a fucking clue who and in their words, not mine--gifted him to us. Connor has been an immense success with Hank, so I figured why not partner RK900 with who I see to be the most promising detective in the department?”

Gavin didn’t like this, didn’t like this one bit. The Connor that wasn’t Connor, those cold eyes boring right into him. It was like the damn thing was judging him, sizing him up, trying to make out all the ways in which he was inferior to it. The detective grit his teeth, shooting to his feet in a fury. Fuck this shit!

“No deal. No fucking way. I’ve worked too fucking hard—”

“This isn’t a punishment Gavin! Connor has made Hank better, more involved in his cases again, and RK900 can do the same for you! I'm doing this because I believe in you!”

“You sure you don’t want to just replace me?!”

Gavin didn’t really mean to say that, didn’t mean to come out with his fear so openly. But he’s been a lot more open as of late, more willing to come out with insecurities, fears, that sort of human and soft bullshit. And with Fowler being so supportive of him for whatever reason this passed year, he couldn’t stop himself from telling it like it is. Yeah, he was worried about being replaced. Like look at this thing! He was practically the embodiment of the perfect detective! So what the fuck did the DPD need him for? The captain’s face softened, shaking his head slowly as he leaned back in his chair in an attempt to further create the air of ease. Gavin would be lying if he said it didn't work, at least a little bit. Fuck everyone and their learning about positive body language bullshit.

“Gavin, this isn't about replacing you. No one wants to replace you, I promise. RK900 is going to be assigned your partner, nothing more. Come on, it isn’t going to be the end of the world. Look, if it makes you feel better, how about we do this as a trial basis and if it doesn’t pan out, I’ll look at assigning you someone else. Deal?”

No, Gavin didn’t want to deal. He didn’t want this terminator as his partner, this android that was going to prove once and for all this department didn’t need him and toss his newly earned perfect life off kilter. He’d finally just started living rather than just existing. This could strip it all away in a single fucking day. And yet he couldn’t help but want to trust Fowler. His captain has been such a huge support through all of this, he wouldn’t do anything to destroy all that. He wasn’t sure this android was the answer for continuing to improve his capabilities as a detective, but if the captain thought so, then…

“Fine, fine. I’ll give it a fucking shot I guess.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, now moving to stand in front of the RK900, who has hardly moved at all since he entered the room. It was just staring him down, sizing him up, analyzing, and it made Gavin shudder. Fucking creepy ass weirdo. Not at all like Connor. Not soft, not alive. Just this machine built for a singular purpose. Hell, it looked like it was made to be _incapable _of experiencing life. Probably a Connor 2.0, minus the ability to deviate. Would make the most sense if it was supposed to be the new and improved version. Why make an upgraded iteration of Connor that could deviate? Maybe it’ll make this shit easier, having a partner without emotions who wasn’t going to get all personal and have a conflicting opinion. And yet part of this whole fucking job was compassion, giving a shit about the people you served, showing empathy for victims, taking pride in wearing the badge. How was this fucking thing going to be a real cop without the capability to do _any_ of that? Guess he was going to have to do that bit for the both of them.

“I know it’s short notice and I’d rather give you both time to settle, but there’s a case I need you both on. It’ll give you a chance to see your new partner in action, see what he’s capable of. Also a good idea for you both to work out the best way to work cohesively together.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, Gavin, right now. Get the sleep out of your damn eyes and hop to!”

All Gavin could do was give one last exaggerated eye roll before ambling out of the office with his mood considerably more sour than when he had entered. Hasn’t even had his damn coffee yet and he was already being called off to a case, with a new plastic bastard of a partner no less. Barely got the sleep out of his eyes before leaving the house (since he woke up late, which was honestly his bad) and now he had to use his brain and all that fun shit he really wasn't ready for. Lovely. Not gonna happen. Coffee first, then he’d go and show this android what being a detective was really all about. And would you look at that; a nice, hot cup of his favorite coffee from some little hole in the wall café in the city, brought lovingly by his dearest Connor, who was giving him a soft smile from across the bullpen. 

Oh Connor. Of every damn deviate out there in Detroit (though he's probably more than a little biased on this), Connor had to be the most expressive and human of them all. Always greeting those around him with kind smiles, showing such empathy for the struggles of others. And hell, if it weren't for his persistent nature and how much he seemed to actually _love_ Gavin, the detective might not be where he was today. No one else cared for his health, made sure he ate, got plenty of water, plenty of sleep. The android taught him through such love and patience what self care was, and finally convinced the detective he was worth taking care of. Sure, it wasn't perfect. There were still days Gavin skipped meals, kept himself awake much longer than he fucking should because hell, the case is more important than his health and well-being. But he's gotten better, and progress, no matter how small, is important. Fucking bless Connor and all he's done for him.

Gavin made to sit down at his desk, just for a little while. Just enough for him to be able to enjoy his coffee. What was a couple of minutes? Not like the crime scene was going anywhere. But there sure was a certain someone who didn’t seem too pleased for his lack of get up and go so to speak. And said _person_ was towering over his desk like some golem set on smashing him to pieces, that strong jaw set in what he almost thought was a disapproving scowl. But that would be conveying emotion. Just a trick of the eye. This thing wouldn't know what emotion was if it bit damn it's plastic ass.

"Detective Reed.”

Gavin let his eyes slide up the broad and tall body standing before his desk, its LED spinning yellow as it observed his relaxed posture, obviously not one of someone about to get up any time soon. Damn thing definitely seemed to be scrutinizing him. Oh great, was he going to be like _that_? Like Connor was when he first showed his mug at the DPD? All about commands and rules and all that bullshit? Well that would be one down side of working with a damn machine like RK900; having the rules and regulations police all up his ass every day at work throwing a wrench on how he does things. Oh no, he was not about to be pushed around. The way Gavin did shit worked, even if it wasn't necessarily by the book an all that. He was going to sit his ass down and enjoy his coffee, whether Robocop liked it or not.

“We have a crime scene to attend to. It would be wise to take our leave immediately as instructed by the captain.”

“Look, tin can. Some of use aren’t machines. Some of us experience this little thing could tiredness, exhaustion, fatigue. Fun little sensations you don’t have and never will have experience in. Just let me drink my coffee, then we can head out, got it?”

Yeah more like RK900 wasn’t in the mood for patience or Gavin's way of doing shit. Because like some rude ruffian with no fucking manners, the android snatched the coffee from his hand, and in a few quick gulps the entire cup was drained, leaving the detective gaping at it and the offensive little stunt. He didn’t know whether to be pissed the fuck off or impressed, but he settled for pissed the fuck off, lurching to his feet, blood starting to simmer in his veins in a way it hasn't in some time.

“Are you fucking serious?! What do you need coffee—”

“I merely wished to get you moving. With your primary distraction out of the way, we can make our way to the crime scene now, can we not?”

Well now Gavin wanted to be stubborn and make the damn android go to the crime scene by it's damn self! No partner of his, especially a new one, was going to tell him what the fuck to do! But that sort of went against Gavin’s whole turning over a new leaf thing. He was passed this shit now, didn’t have to react in anger and defiance to all that displeases him. What good was that going to do? One way or another he was going to have a partner, and honestly he’d rather have an android partner that would be much more unlikely to stab him in the back for the sake of climbing up the career ladder or earning some recognition. Maybe this really was for the fucking best or whatever. So with much reluctance, the detective lurched to his feet, leveling his new partner with a glare before leading the way to the parking lot. Might as well rip off the band-aid and get this over with.

\----------------------------

Traffic. Of course there had to be fucking traffic. Gavin just wanted to deal with this case, then get back to the precinct to drop this prick off before getting his ass home. He didn’t want to be dealing with his new partner today more than he needed to. He was still processing this shit; he needed time to himself to deal with, well, _whatever _this all was. The insecurity, the worrying over being replaced, those thoughts echoing in his head like a demented mantra, taunting, tormenting. Sure, Fowler promised that wouldn’t happen, but maybe this was all a trick. All some lie, to give him some misguided comfort before life gave him the most devastating beat down in all his years. It’s just the sort of sick joke that karma would play on him. But he had to trust, to at least do his best to try. If Fowler thinks this piece of plastic will be for the best, maybe it will. He could at least humor him, even temporarily.

“Fuck, drive you assholes! It isn’t even quitting time! Why are there so many fucking idiots on the road?!”

Gavin couldn’t help but slam on the steering wheel of the patrol car before throwing himself back in his seat out of frustration. They were going nowhere fast, apparently. Its been stop and go for the last half hour, so he might as well try to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could get with the perfect fucking detective sitting beside him, grinding away at his nerves by it's very presence. Doesn’t even serve as a good conversational partner to pass the time. If he had Hank or Connor with him, they could at least shoot the shit until they got out of this fucking jam up. But RK900 seemed pretty disinterested. He tried a couple of times, little admittedly pointless questions, just some small talk to break the oppressive silence in the car, but he didn’t get anything in response. No sounds of acknowledgement, not a glance of the eye. Nothing; might as well be a brick wall sitting next to him. And the damn thing having Connor's face wasn't helping matters any. Gavin tried to tell himself it didn't bother him, but god damn when you loved a guy and _someone else_ far different from him had his face? It was unnerving. Fuck, this day couldn't get any more worse _or _awkward.

The duo found themselves inching through traffic for another half hour (of complete silence that had the detective wanting to beat his head against the steering wheel) before something unusual caught Gavin’s attention. He would have missed it if he weren’t so damn _bored_ with nothing else to occupy his attention, but as it were, a red light that suddenly started illuminating against the passenger-side wall of the car had his mind and eyes wandering. He gave a glance over, and somehow the RK900 seemed more stiff and machine-like than before. No, that wasn’t it. He definitely looked worlds more tense and stiff, but there was something there in his eyes, and something that just barely touched the features of his face. Something like panic, worry, something almost_ human_. Fucking hell, had to be a trick of the eye. This android was nothing but a machine, not deviant, not alive like the rest. Might as well just get used to it instead of hoping for--well, for what exactly? A cop pal? A partner he could depend on? He needed to get a fucking grip.

“Detective, there is an accident and an ensuing protest over the ordeal ahead that is causing this traffic difficulty. It seems to not be letting up any time soon. I advise we find an alternate route.”

Wow, that was the most RK900 has spoken to him since he was announced as his partner! But what was really odd was this: what did it even fucking matter? The crime scene wasn’t going anywhere, they had all day to give it a look over, so why not just enjoy the horrible view that was the rotten ol’ streets of Detroit? And what was that in the android’s voice? A small sense of urgency? Ok, was his bored fucking imagination really running _that_ rampant? There was just absolutely _no_ way Mr. Terminator was conveying any sort of expressiveness in his voice. Nope, reading too much into subtle, non-existent bullshit. The detective simply rolled his eyes and slumped further down into his seat, tapping his foot against the footwell of the car.

“Yeah, well guess what genius? Everyone fucking else is trying to do the same thing. We’ll just get lost, stuck in more traffic. Just enjoy the ride, the simple little dull ass pleasures of life or whatever.”

Then, a most curious sound came from the android. Some sort of distressed whine that had Gavin snapping his eyes and attention quickly over to it again. The RK900 was biting at the inside of it's cheek, eyes searching along the streets for fuck knows what, but it was unmistakable now; there was panic in those eyes that seemed so cold and calculating before. The android seemed to be making an attempt to keep its expression stoic, neutral, but it seemed to be failing in that endeavor, the anxious panic starting to contort that face against its will. Right, so Gavin was starting to have some doubts. His little infant thoughts weren’t 100% solid or anything but, he had to wonder; and honestly, worry a tad bit.

“You uh, alright there Mr. Terminator?”

RK900 fidgeted a bit in it's seat, twisting in a way that it was sitting more on it's right hip, legs crossed in a manner that was far from casual. It seemed strained, intentional, like the damn thing needed to…

“I’m finding myself having to deal with unintended and rather surprising consequences that come with having consumed your coffee earlier. I must admit I have never taken anything into my system other than thirium and didn’t quite think my irrational idea through. I…didn’t think to consider where the coffee would have to go.”

Gavin felt his brows pinching together, his confusion dawning into understanding, no matter how shocking this all was. Ok, he can understand Connor needing to piss because he got that update or whatever. He got that shit installed so that he could further enhance his human experience or however the fuck he had worded it. But why in the fuck would RK900 already have that shit installed? How exactly did it help him with his mission of being the perfect detective? It fucking didn’t, that’s why none of this made sense! But it was growing pretty obvious this wasn’t a bluff, no matter how much Gavin tried to tell himself it had to be because it was the only thing that made sense. The android was growing a bit more panicked in its desperation, the emotion now starting to contort its face out of that comfortable neutral of before into something a little more wild, and _human_.

“Um, alright. We can find somewhere to stop. Might be a while but—”

“There is nowhere nearby in this area that allows public use for androids as of yet.”

“Fuck…”

Yeah that was Connor’s biggest problem when the two of them went out, too. Finding establishments that weren’t rooted in prejudice. There unfortunately weren’t a whole lot of them, especially in areas like this that faced the steepest unemployment consequences due to Cyberlife's booming prosperity. So the only real option was, what? Go back to the precinct? No, too far. Find somewhere secluded? Not the best idea, but unfortunately probably the only idea they really had. Or there was that big ass water bottle sitting in the footwell at the android’s feet. That could work, just a poor needy bastard pissing in a bottle, nothing weird about that. Gavin's done the same thing on road trips before, no need to be shy.

“There’s a bottle at your feet you can use. Promise I won’t tell anyone if it makes you feel better.”

RK900 let out a moan, uncrossing and recrossing its legs as tightly as the poor thing could manage, a hand rubbing tenderly over its abdomen as if to cradle the sensitive organ (or biocomponent, whatever) that was torturously filled with liquid. The other hand is now dipping between the android’s legs, and hoo-boy, Gavin was not going to look. Absolutely wasn’t. That’d just be fucking rude, wouldn’t it? No need to make this more uncomfortable and awkward than it already was. No need to watch the poor bastard's seated version of a potty dance.

“I…I’m not equipped to make that an easy n-nor a realistic option.”

“Wha--? What does that…”

“CyberLife saw fit to equip me with the anatomy opposite of my assumed gender by all other anatomical appearance. I do not have what you do and therefore using a bottle is not feasible...”

Holy shit, CyberLife gave RoboCop here a pussy? What the hell for?! It didn’t make sense for him to have genitalia at all if the detective was being honest, but come on! For what fucking reason? This was just getting weirder and weirder. Hell he hasn’t even had time to put his thoughts in order when to comes to even _having_ a new partner and already his thoughts and opinions_about him_ have twisted and whirled about more times than he can fucking count for one day. This is not how he was expecting all of this shit to go, but ta-da, here they fucking were; Gavin trying to navigate stop and go traffic while his not-so-terminator-after-all android fights to restrain its desperate need to piss with no real options for relief. Fuck his head hurt. One thing at a time. Just take this one thing at a time.

“Alright, fuck, look. Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll get you some privacy.”

“Please, hurry.”

RK900 tried its best to not sound so distressed, but that was basically impossible at this point. Gavin could see from the corner of his eye the way the poor bastard was rubbing the fingers of it's hand quite roughly against itself for friction to relieve what must be a terrible, burning ache brought on by its desperate need for relief. It was fidgeting, writhing about, bucking down against the seat, damn near looked like it was about to crawl out of it's chassis. He needed a solution, and fast. Not that he was worried about the damn thing being damaged. That’s what the auto-purge shit was for, but he wasn’t all too enthused with the thought of cleaning up the squad car, so there was that. But there was also that new feeling in his gut, that feeling of honest to god concern for this hunk of junk. It was hard to detach himself and see the android as nothing more than a hunk of junk with that fucking look on its face.

Ten minutes later found them near some old warehouses, run down abandoned business buildings, ruins of an era of Detroit civilization since long gone. Not ideal but probably their best bet. And at least no one was going to question a squad car pulling into such a parking lot as opposed to just any ol’ Joe off the street. And good fucking timing apparently, because just as he was about to pull on over, the RK900 lurched forward in it’s seat very suddenly, unfastening the constrictive seatbelt with haste before grinding it's crotch against the edge of the seat. There was a crazed look in it's eyes, a soft panting escaping those parted lips.

"Stop, s-stop, detective you must stop! Please! I can't--"

Gavin brought the car to a screeching halt, and not a moment later the android was tossing open the door. It tried rising to it's feet, but seemed unable to manage even that, desperate and pitiful sounds forcing their way out of it's throat. RK900's next movements were jerky and frantic, hands scrambled to undo the leather belt holding up it's trousers, and he swore he could hear a repetitive, pleading mantra of 'wait, wait, wait' being echoed over and over again in a soft whisper. A flurry of frantic movement, trousers being yanked down in a quick motion, and without even leaving Gavin's line of sight, the android just started going then and there, sitting at the edge of the footwell of the car, liquid pouring out against the concrete beneath it. But that wasn't the sound that caught the detective's attention the most.

It took a moment for Gavin to pick out the noise from everything else he was hearing (mostly the sound of the android's release), but louder still were the muffled sobs that seemed to strangle their way out of RK900's throat. And that was the moment that sealed his fucking fate as far as his partner was concerned. That was it, game over. The detective got himself out of the car and rounded to the other side, concerned eyes taking in the sight before him. And fuck did it make his heart ache. The way the android shook in his relief and yet in distress all at once. The way his face blotched blue as he cried (just like Gavin's face blotched up that ugliest fucking red when _he_ cried). And the most striking thing of all was the way the android hunched in on himself, as if expecting some sort of punishment, or like he was trying to hide his shameful behavior from prying, judgmental eyes.

This was all too fucking weird, and almost way too fucking much to handle at once.

"Hey, hey come on now. Nines."

Gavin knelt before the android, warm puddle of piss (or coffee really since androids just pissed out what they drank) be damned, resting a gentle hand on his leg. And he definitely caught the way RK900 flinched, trying to force his face back into that iron mask of before, but failing to smooth at the lines of distress.

"Look, accidents happen. Not a big deal, even for a big, bad ol' Robocop such as yourself."

"No, it is a miscalculation I should _not_ have allowed to happen. It seems I was unaware of every aspect of how my body functions and it has caused us an unnecessary hold up. I...detective, I-I--"

RK900 couldn't help the keening whine, clapping his hands over his mouth in alarm at the unwanted sound. And god damn Gavin just couldn't restrain himself. Before he thought about what he was doing, the detective found his arms wrapping around the android, as if his arms alone could keep the poor thing from shaking apart. Fuck it, he could at least try. Better than just watching the android collapse in on himself from this, whatever he was experiencing. All Gavin knew was that to go through shit like this alone was bound to make him feel empty, unwanted. He knew the feeling intimately. He was pretty much an expert.

"De...tective...why are you holding me?"

"Look, just shut up and cool your jets. Just breathe and let it out. That's it..."

Gavin sat on the edge of the footwell of the car with RK900, letting the android work through his emotional upheaval. It took many moments of calming, then spontaneously dissolving into sobs again in cycles before it all died down into a stuffy nosed breathing, the android leaning against the detective in a way that conveyed exhaustion, face mirroring his posture with just a hint of despondence there. It was almost more concerning than the bout of crying had been.

"Hey, you uh...good now? Say, next time you need something like that how about you just _tell me. _I'm not gonna bite your head off for needing to take a leak, alright? We're partner or whatever so, we need to be able to trust each other."

Nothing. No response. RK900 simply stared at the puddle he'd made on the concrete below them, LED still an alarming red in color. Stress levels must still be high, which wasn't good, but at least he wasn't doing that bash his brains in thing Gavin has seen a few too many times. Still, to get emotion, _response_ out of him for the damn thing to clam up just like that was a little frustrating. Like getting a sneak peek at some hidden wonder only to be denied it all over again. But there was something to this, something to the android keeping himself neutral, withdrawn, devoid of all want and emotion, and Gavin had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to like the truth.

"Ahem, well, we should probably, you know, do that thing where we do our job or whatever. And you should uh..."

RK900 nodded in a jerking motion, moving to sort himself out, while Gavin gave him some privacy by rounding back to his side of the car, sliding back into the driver's seat before sparing another glance to his partner once he'd also seated himself. And he couldn't help but notice those blue eyes staring right back at him, though not with the same calculated focus. More like with something akin to soft wonder, curiosity, maybe even something bigger than all of that. More than what Gavin could find himself capable of thinking about at the moment.

"Well, 900--"

"Nines..."

"Wha--"

"You designated me Nines just then. Could...would you--"

The android toyed with his lip, eyes averting back to his lap. And fucking hell Gavin felt a warmth swell in his chest and down to his belly. Well wouldn't you know. Maybe his partner was a real boy after all.

"Sure, Nines. Lets get rollin', shall we?"

You know what, he might be callin' it too early, but maybe having Nines as a partner wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
